


Kiss Me Deadly

by Ayes



Category: Twilight RPF
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 03:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12472108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayes/pseuds/Ayes
Summary: When it finally happens, just like she wanted, everything is all wrong. His mouth is too small and his tongue is too big and they aren't supposed to be doing this, but he's warm as a fire and she feels like she's been standing outside in the rain for too long, maybe years.





	Kiss Me Deadly

She goes to bed as Bella and she wakes up as Kristen again.  
  
Rob isn't there every day any more, and it makes her notice life's aches and pains a little more acutely. Her toes ache when she stubs them, and she slips in the shower, and it's not like she's useless, but when she sees their photographs she breathes in deep and forgets to breathe out again.  
  
She and Michael break up, but she feels awkward and arrogant wondering if she needs to announce it or call a press conference, so she doesn't. They hang out from time to time, and sometimes there are photographers, so who knows what the world thinks, but she's tired of caring.  
  
She hasn't seen Rob, and refuses to text him, and she doesn't know what he's doing since she's been back. Once or twice she's lain awake at night thinking about everything but him, and pretty soon she'll run out of distractions.  
  
So that, pretty much, is that.  
  
****  
  
The tabloids find out first.  
  
Kristen is in the kitchen minding her own business when her sister comes in, guiltily hiding the mail behind her back. Kristen watches Taylor do this weird shuffle so that the contents of her hands are hidden, and rolls her eyes.  
  
"What's in your hand?"  
  
"Nothing." Kristen holds out her hand, and Taylor hands it over. "It's just another stupid story. I know you don't like seeing them make stuff up, that's all."  
  
"But this isn't even about me, this is Rob," Kristen opens US Weekly to the middle and flips backwards until she finds the article entitled "NEW LOVE FOR NEW MOON HOTTIE" and scans it. It's another article about Rob and some girl. There aren't even pictures of any girl. It's obviously bullshit.  
  
Taylor shrugs. "Well, I didn't know if it was true."  
  
"I don't care," Kristen says, and looks up. Ever since she's come home from filming, her sister has seemed a little older. A little wiser, maybe.  
  
Right now she looks like she doesn't believe Kristen, which is stupid. Kristen doesn't care if Rob is linked with some dumb slut.  
  
_Maybe you wouldn't be so quick to call them sluts if you didn't care_ she thinks. But she pushes the magazine away and stands up.  
  
"Let's go get food or something."  
  
They go, and she forgets.  
  
****  
  
Two days later Kristen is trying on dresses in Calabasas for a party at their new DP's house to celebrate the wrapping of New Moon. She sends a picture of the final three to Nikki, who texts her back pretty fast.  
  
"better go w/the sexy one!"  
  
Kristen laughs and thinks nothing of it; buys the short summer dress that shows her back and legs.  
  
She wishes she'd bought the black one with straps down the side, though, when she sees Rob that night.  
  
_Maybe it was true_ , she can't help but think, seeing his hand in the small of some girl's back. The girl is and tall and curvy, with red hair and a perfect cupid's bow. Her hair is curly at the ends and Rob looks at her like she's the end of his sentences.  
  
Kristen sips on her champagne and pretends that Rob is going to come over and say hi to her at any minute. She'd go to him, but she's wearing heels and she doesn't trust herself in the grass.  
  
Later on she sees them kiss, and he doesn't make eye contact with her all night.  
  
It's kind of like hell.  
  
****  
  
She goes to an Access Hollywood charity red carpet event that her agent says is non-negotiable. She smiles tightly as her picture's taken and looks around for anyone she knows. No. But the Twilight cast doesn't like to linger as much as the fame whores do, and she knows they'll be inside, or come later.  
  
On the way up to the party on the top floor (bigwigs do like a view of the people they look down on), Kristen analyses her skin in the elevator mirror, fussing with her starchy-feeling hair and patting down her hips. She's wearing the strappy black dress, but it's not like it's on purpose. She can't be bothered to go re-shopping for every goddamn event at the select stores her stylist's approved for her.  
  
When the elevator doors slide open in the middle of the room, she slips into a group of people and pretends to be a spy. She is Kristen Bond. Kristen Bourne.  
  
"Kristen." Busted.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Rob is standing with _her_ again, the girl who Kristen only thinks about in angry italics. He smiles at her and then gestures with the crook of his elbow at _the redhead_. "This is--"  
  
"How nice!" She chirps, suddenly, cutting him off. She knows she's being rude, she can see it in the sudden dislike colouring the _girl_ 's face, the blush across her overly exposed cleavage. It's obvious in the way that Rob's eyebrows almost make it to his hair, and his lips curl up an infinitesimal amount. "I love your dress, I wish that kind of stuff would fit me."  
  
She's jealous. Rob can tell. She hates how he knows things about her; but he doesn't know everything she's capable of either.  
  
Kristen smiles brightly, showing all of her teeth.  
  
She makes an excuse and leaves. There are more things to do tonight.  
  
****  
  
Kristen goes to a party she's been getting texts about in her friend's garage when she gets back to the Valley. Everyone she's ever gotten drunk with is there, as well as the new people who arrive with time; the ebb and flow of crews. Some people are too enthusiastic to see her; she barely remembers them. A cluster of girls she doesn't know whisper and glance at her-- their eyes aren't kind, and she is way overdressed. Kristen squares her shoulders and ducks under a cloth poster and a garland of lights stuffed into various types of beer bottles, and goes to sit on a torn up old couch next to the foosball table. Her beer is kind of warm, but she doesn't want to complain about anything in front of the bitchy girls, and she sips it slowly anyway.  
  
She stays all night to punish herself for running out on Access Hollywood and Rob. They go to Jack in the Box at 4, and when she finds herself sitting on a stoop at 5:20 listening to the debate over staying up to go to a car show in Pomona, and who's in the condition to drive, she finally goes home.  
  
She sleeps until the light wakes her up at nine. She's exhausted, but can't fall asleep again, so she wipes off her smudged makeup and makes coffee in her sweats. Maybe her mom will wake up and want some. Probably not.  
  
She feels anger under her skin, and thoughts she still needs to think about, and guilt and so much jealousy she doesn't know where to put it. She's never made grand plans before, and the newspaper is still on her driveway uncollected, but now feels like as good a time as any to plot.  
  
****  
  
What Kristen can't understand is that he seems like he's forgotten that they're even friends. She thinks that maybe it's his girlfriend; maybe she is driving a purposeful wedge in between them. It's no secret that he and Kristen used to be close, and it was just as well-known that he used to try to push even closer.  
  
She knows its selfish but he's always wanted _her_. And maybe he's just given up and moved on like anyone sane should, but fuck that. No. She thought he'd _always_ want her.  
  
Maybe if he screams her name, he'll shatter her grudges. Maybe it's about time to remind him that he _should_ want her.  
  
****  
  
Rob's slutface of a girlfriend befriends Dakota and they both come to set to visit.  
  
Dakota is gracious and seems to know to keep them away from Kristen. Kristen's confused _all the time_ about how she feels and what she wants, and since when are all these little girls seeing the roots of her problems? Things just seem simpler to other people, Kristen supposes, as she grinds her teeth all day.  
  
She waylays him when he leaves the replica of the punk set, her black hair is tucked behind her ears and she stares at how good he looks with a dirty graffiti backdrop. "Rob."  
  
He changes direction and comes to stand in front of her. She peeks at how everyone is laughing, the scene cut, Lita Ford playing low in the background. Kiss Me Deadly. "Kristen?"  
  
She remembers to smile. "I haven't seen you in a while." He knows that's her fault, but to his credit, he doesn't give any indication of it. He just smiles back, rubs his palm over the back of his head where she knows his hair is the softest.  
  
"I know. I missed you." He doesn't sound like he's admitting to anything; just telling her his sign, or the weather. Like it isn't a secret. She likes that.  
  
"Yeah?" She grins now, and it's not fake. "I bet you did."  
  
The seduction starts there.  
  
****  
  
When it finally happens, just like she wanted, everything is all wrong. His mouth is too small and his tongue is too big and they aren't supposed to be doing this, but he's warm as a fire and she feels like she's been standing outside in the rain for too long, maybe years.  
  
His fingers slip into her too fast because she's just that wet already, wet through her panties and in the crease of her leg. It's like she can feel his knuckles and his short nails, like she can feel everything. Like she's aflame now too.  
  
His breath is hot against her skin, and his nose and lips trace a line down her stomach. She tries to buck up, try to force him down, already, but his hands are firm on her shoulders and she can't.  
  
She bears down on his mouth, on her tiptoes with her ass against a dresser as he shoves her hips up with his fingertips and makes these _disgusting_ noises until she comes.  
  
Kristen rides him on the floor of his apartment for forty minutes after that, banging her knees on the carpet and scratching up his chest. She turns red and her hair shakes loose from its ponytail and he looks up at her with dark wet eyes like an animal or a poet and she stares instead at how tightly he's holding her thighs down.  
  
It's dirty. Its the kind of dirty that you can't shower clean. It's the kind of dirty that she knows Rob won't want to risk exposing on his scratched skin to _her_ for a while.  
  
His come is hot and everywhere and she rubs herself through it. His dick twitches as he stares, and she grins so big her lip tears a little bit.  
  
****  
  
After she makes an excuse about showering and Rob drives back, she sits Indian style and naked, eating a strawberry PopTart and checking her e-mail. She checks her reflection in the webcam; she looks like she's been fucked by a truck.  
  
Her phone buzzes.  
  
There's no way that Rob is back yet; but she still sees a picture of him on the screen. His smiling, not-yet-famous face, taken outside as they ate sandwiches in the first week of preproduction on _Twilight_. Before everything.  
  
She picks up.  
  
"Kristen." His voice is warm, and she freezes mid-bite. Crumbs fall into her lap, but she doesn't notice.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I just wanted to say, you know, I'm really glad that uh. Well, I've wanted this for a long time. And I never thought--"  
  
"Rob." She swallows a dry mouthful. She didn't realize she was going to have to hurt him, but she thinks of his fingers curled into the redhead's back, and it's not hard to do it anyway. She lies. "I don't know-- I don't think you should read too much into what happened."  
  
"...oh." She can hear a car honking at him; she remembers its illegal to drive and speak on the phone. He keeps speaking anyway. "Listen, I know things happened fast, and I didn't want them to start like this, really, but I'm really glad--"  
  
"I have to go, my mom's home," she says, and hangs up. This isn't a romance. This is a revenge.  
  
****  
  
Two weeks later she still won't return Rob's calls, still won't date him or try to repair their friendship, but when she shows up at his place on a Tuesday, she doesn't wear any underwear.  
  
He opens the door to her quietly, and she smiles at him. She's missed him, despite the weirdness. Despite how busy she keeps herself working.  
  
He shakes his head but lets her in, and she stands on her tiptoes to give him a lingering kiss hello. He is still for a moment, and then gathers her to him.  
  
This time their sex is in a bed, but when he kisses her bellybutton she looks away. She wishes that she could be nicer for him, because he really deserves it, but things are they way that they are for a reason.  
  
She feels like she's spent too many years trying to make herself tough, and ended up mean instead, somewhere along the way. Her eyes squint even in the dark of his Spartan bedroom and her mouth is open, pursed, like she's evaluating Rob and finding him wanting.  
  
But she isn't. She's loving every minute of this, of him inside of her, but she has to hide it. She licks his shoulder and avoids his eyes.  
  
Afterwards, she trails kisses over his fingers, and she can feel him watching her, but she doesn't look up. She doesn't dare to.  
  
He rubs his fingertips over a bruise on the back of her knee. Kristen winces and finally looks up.  
  
"Kristen," he starts, and she can tell he's rehearsed this. His words seem heavier and strung into sentences already. He's speaking slowly, like he does when he reads lines. Kristen realizes that she's terrified of what he's going to say. She sits up and pulls up the blankets, separating them with cotton, if not any actual space.  
  
He continues. "Kristen. I know you better than you think. I know that you like to make things harder on yourself, and I haven't done anything to pressure you; you told me that you didn't want to talk about.. whatever this is, and I haven't. I've stayed with Amelia--"  
  
Kristen snorted. What an awful name. She's kind of pissed she can't pretend not to know it anymore.  
  
Rob's eyes flicked to hers, and she makes the mistake of looking back. He presses on, smiling a little and twisting the knife that she can feel in her gut.  
  
" _Despite_ being raised better than that. My point is, I don't know what you want from me. But I want to give it to you, so please, just tell me. Why-- is this about Michael?"  
  
"No!" Kristen is so surprised that she answers. She sits up, blanket slipping down her bare chest. Her nipples are purple with bites, but she doesn't bother to cover herself. "We broke up. A long time ago. You don't _know me better than I think_ , Rob. You don't know anything."  
  
The hurt in his eyes is palpable. "Well, then, what-- Kristen, I _love_ you!"  
  
Kristen actually gasps. She doesn't feel like any of this is real. Like she's watching herself have this conversation, a girl that looks like her, naked and pink and angry, and a six-foot-two angel playing a boy who could love her.  
  
Except right now she hates him.  
  
"You CAN'T!" She stands up and begins to look for her pants, furiously blushing and just plain furious. He doesn't get to make things easy on himself. She's mad and she doesn't know why. Doesn't he know how easy it is for him to affect her? Doesn't he know that he's had all the power all along? She had held on to their flirtations so fiercely, hoping that one day he'd love her back, or look at her with _more_ , and now he's acting like a motherfucking victim.  
  
Kristen slides her jeans on. There are no panties to come first, and she feels a little bit like a whore. He is standing now, staring at her. He looks angry. His _hair_ looks angry.  
  
"What the fuck, Kristen?"  
  
"Yeah, what the fuck. Just-- just go back to your girlfriend."  
  
"I don't want to! Why won't you _listen_ to me?" He reaches out across the bed for her arm, but she backs out of his reach. He growls and steps toward her again, yanks her arm with both hands so she spins and falls into him, hard.  
  
She draws back her free arm and slaps him, and he doesn't even seem phased. He grasps her wrist so she can't hit him again, and she resents the contact. Even held against him now she can tell that he's hard again, and he's got her arm, got her wrist, got her pressed right up where, despite everything, she wants to be.  
  
They fall back against the bed after a long moment of silence, and their uneven breaths fill the room. His desperate fingers move on her like they can take back his words, and maybe she hates him and maybe she loves him, but she's got him now.


End file.
